


Crossed Fangs

by Sword_Kallya



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Because this is fanfic and I do what I want, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Fill all the plotholes!, Found Family, Gen, Grief, How did Falchion get named Kingkiller anyhow?, I flipped the gender ratio from the canon game, Minor Character Death, Mourning, Panic, Starts ~400 years before canon, Team as Family, maybe major character death, mild AU, we don't know yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya
Summary: A thousand years before Grima awoke, Saint-King Alm and Priestess-Queen Celica slew the mad dragon-god Duma.There was, however, a time even before then, when Duma was not yet maddened by the sickness of the divine dragons. A time when Alm's ancestors faced Celica's across the border, each utterly convinced that they were in the right. A time when the peaceful Zofians broke the Holy Accord.A time when Duma's children and Mila's did not cross hearts, but instead blades, carved from the dragon-gods' fangs.





	Crossed Fangs

At the first ring of the dawn bell, Anye was out of bed and moving, along with the rest of her wardmates. Usually, there would have been groaning and complaining as they desperately tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep, but today was too important for that.

Not every day was the trial of the fang, after all.

Bianca shoved Anye out of the way in her rush to the washroom. Anye nobly refrained from tripping the older girl as she tossed her habit and armor on with unusual alacrity. “You’re wasting your time, Pasty!” she yelled, fumbling with the straps and buckles.

The response she got, while likely impossible, was imaginative enough to make her grin.

Across the room, Robin was mimicking Anye’s routine, waiting until after breakfast to wash up. Anye glared at her, with more annoyance than anger. Robin’s enthusiasm for their rivalry could be entertaining on the practice field, but was irritating before she had had her first cup of tea.

Anye feinted towards the crowded wash basins, just obviously enough to get Robin to rush past her, then darted downstairs to the dining hall.

Monta was already there, pot of too-strong keep-awake tea beside her as she pored over a dusty tome that had probably last seen the light of day when Anye’s great-grandfather was alive. And Anye’s family tended to live quite a bit longer than average.

Monta pointed to the red mark on Anye’s cheek from smacking into the doorframe, then poured another cup of tea. “Robin?”

“Bianca.”

“Ah. Of course.” The mage indicated Anye should sit down beside her with an absent wave of her hand. Anye acquiesced and gratefully accepted the tea. Monta returned to her book. “So. Are you ready?”

“Is anyone?” Anye was generally less than verbal before she had woken up properly.

“Fair enough. However, if anyone could be, it’s you.”

“You all have too much faith in me,” Anye muttered. “Blood has nothing to do with the Trial. Skill is the only thing that matters.”

“Your bloodline is known for their skill,” Monta pointed out.

“And you have far too much fun playing devil’s advocate, even when it’s not called for. See? I can state the obvious too.”

“Nice delivery, but too much emotion,” Monta deadpanned. “And you should eat something.”

“That’s rich coming from you, and you’re not my mother. When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“Ten minutes ago.” The mage blew spiderweb-white strands of hair out of her face. “I’m participating too.”

“Really? Because you said-”

“Go wash up, Anye,” another voice called. Monta and Anye both jumped to their feet as Dame Meredith, the priory mother, strode into the room. Her deep blue armor clanked softly with every deliberate movement. “He is coming to watch the trials Himself, and as our rising star, you need to be at your absolute best.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anye grabbed a slice of honeyed trail bread and promptly made herself scarce. Given the look on the graying knight’s face, she wanted privacy with which to upbraid Monta, probably for breaking into the restricted section of the archives. Again.

She ducked back into an alcove off the hallway as all sixty-odd young women from the Blade Ward and the Bow Ward came thundering down to eat. Anye spotted Bianca and Robin among the crowd, arguing as only the best of friends could. Luckily, no one who would have stopped her saw her, and she made it up the stairs and washed up in relative peace.

Everyone else was still eating by the time she was done, so she headed for the training grounds. None of the rest of the group were out there yet, which was why she’d done everything out of order in the first place. Anye spread her legs in a stretch that was the envy of half of the priory, and then did a few less impressive warmups as the rest of the girl’s side started filing out.

A few wolf-whistles echoed from where the male half of the priory were doing their warmups. Anye rolled her eyes, and grinned as Wilde took a few of the more emphatic leerers to task. Wilde was a bit on the odd side, but he was also one of the best dam war clerics she’d ever met, and he never treated Anye differently than anyone else.

Honestly, that’s all it really took for Anye to take a shine to someone.

Once Anye started shadow-sparring, the rest of the women were well into their stretches. Dame Meredith nodded approvingly as she passed, headed for one particular idiot who was spending more time staring than practicing. Anye winced in sympathy as Dame Meredith’s characteristic quiet anger silenced the entire practice field.

“Anye!” a voice yelled from the other side of the yard. “There’s a messenger for you!”

Anye looked to Dame Meredith for permission before she left. Behind her, she heard the priory mother raise her voice to be heard over the sudden chorus of complaints. “Anye was out here for earlier and longer than any of you, so she gets a reprieve earlier.”

Anye sighed quietly. She hated when her family meddled with her life. It would take her weeks to break everyone of giving her the golden girl treatment after this. Dame Meredith’s words wouldn’t have fooled anyone with a brain, and everyone would have heard by the time the trials started.

Anye made sure her court mask was firmly in place as she rounded the corner towards the gate. Upon seeing who was waiting for her, she let it go in favor of a country bumpkin’s all-nobles-are-idiots stare. “Mathilda,” she drawled, imitating the local accent just to make her friend’s squire flinch. “You know I love you dearly, but did you really have to kick up such a fuss?”

“I did nothing of the sort, Your Highness,” the knight sniffed, one-upping Anye’s backwoods cleric with her own court-formality. “I simply requested that the young lady attending the gate send someone to fetch you.”

“I was in the middle of the training yard. Everyone who wasn’t on duty saw it. In fact, half the people who _were_ on duty saw it.”

“Well then, I apologize for ruining your attempt to pass as human.” Mathilda bowed haughtily, in the manner Anye had come to the priory to avoid.

Anye socked her in the jaw.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Just speak your piece, ‘Tilda.” Suddenly, Anye felt tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour of exercise she had just indulged in. Today was going to be a very long day, and the sun hadn’t even risen properly yet.

Mathilda sighed and held out a pair of fine vellum envelopes, each dripping with seals, ribbons, and gold lettering, not all of which Anye recognized. “One’s from your family, and one’s from King Caelestis.

Anye stopped reaching for the blue-ribboned letter and arched an eyebrow at her friend. “I wasn’t aware he knew who I was.”

“Most of your clan received one. Apparently, he’s trying for some kind of diplomatic shindig and wants to play nice with your brother. Milord declined in your name, since it’s a week from now. Something told us you wouldn’t be able to come.”

“I’m severely tempted to trip on my sword and disqualify myself from the trial just to throw off the betting pool,” Anye muttered. “Am I the only one who thinks I might not make it?”

“Yep!” Mathilda declared cheerfully. “The betting pool isn’t on _whether_ you’ll make it, it’s on _how_ you’ll make it. I have twenty silver marks on you doing well in bow but better in sword.”

“Better head to the practice range after this, then.” Ignoring Mathilda’s indignant shout, Anye went on, “I take it none of my clan will oversee the Trial, then? So that’s why He is coming all the way here.”

Anye abruptly wished that she was even a halfway decent artist. The look on Mathilda’s face was a sight to behold. “What?” the knight yelped, nearly overbalancing. “He – the _War Father_ is coming _here?!”_

“I just found out this morning.” Anye very carefully did not smirk. Gloating over this would not be fair. “I don’t think Dame Meredith had told anyone else yet, or we’d be hearing a lot of yelling.”

As if on cue, a chorus of startled voices rose from the training grounds.

Mathilda chuckled, though her voice was still shaky. “You and your sense of timing, Anye. But seriously, the _War Father,_ overseeing the trial where one of his descendants earns the right to bear His Fang in battle against His foes? It sounds like something out of a legend.” She continued over the fighter’s protests, “Don’t give me that’ you’re the only candidate with real combat training instead of priestly self-defense and sword forms from some manual decades old. Everyone who knows you’re competing is prepared to lose to you. The story just makes it more convincing.”

Anye grumbled quietly. “I wish I were the kind of person who could deliberately throw the tournament just to mess with you.”

“But you’re not?” Mathilda said, grinning hopefully.

“But I’m not,” Anye begrudgingly agreed.

“Oh good. Now will you read your letter? I’m curious.” Mathilda said. She attempted to peek over the smaller woman’s shoulder, but moving in plate armor was impossible to do subtly.

“Alright, alright.” Anye tugged one of the witch stars out of her braid and carefully used its sharpened points to break the blood red sealing wax on her brother’s letter. “To Anye Teodora Albein III, Duchess of the Black Forest, et cetera, et cetera…” she read aloud, skimming past the formal titles and greetings. When she flipped to the second page a small note, considerably less ornate than the rest of the letter, fell from between the pages and fluttered to the ground. Frowning in confusion, she picked it up and began to read.

Mathilda was very suddenly made aware that her friend was in full armor. The fighter turned on her heel and stalked, dragonlike, across the courtyard. “You’ve been assigned to be my guard for the time being,” the princess ordered over her shoulder. “Find someone to show you where you can stay. Preferably Wilde or Robin; I can’t have them in my hair right now. I need to read this in private.”


End file.
